


Tomorrow will be a Better Day

by The Curator of The Sands (GrimRevolution)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Families of Choice, Gen, Pidge | Katie Holt-centric, Sometimes you just need to cry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-15 02:11:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10548280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrimRevolution/pseuds/The%20Curator%20of%20The%20Sands
Summary: The Black Lion was empty.





	

That empty Black Lion and the stifling silence in the hangar weighed down on Pidge’s shoulders as everyone muttered something about getting some rest and then starting for their search for Shiro in the morning. Keith was the first to go, his shoulders up to his ears, eyes suspiciously misty, then it was Lance, who waved his arms around with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes saying something like _don’t worry, we’ll find him!._ Allura and Coran were next, the Princess barely able to keep her eyes open much less stay on her feet.

It was Hunk who hesitated, glancing back at her for a moment and opening his mouth to say something.

“I’m just going to check on Green,” Pidge said before he could speak, before he could say anything and she fell apart in front of him, “she got hit a couple of times and I just want to make sure she’s okay.”

That was easy enough to believe—the Green Lion held the shield of Voltron and it wouldn’t be the first time they had gotten battered around protecting the others.

Hunk had been there through the Garrison, through the wild trip into space on the Blue Lion that started all this madness. He didn’t believe her, not fully—she could see it in his eyes—but he also knew that, sometimes, people just needed time alone. So the Yellow Paladin nodded and turned around, following the others into the depths of the Castle.

And Pidge was left standing in the hangar, unable to do anything but stare at the Lion. Green was a steady pulsing in the back of her mind that hadn’t faded since they had left Olkari that first time. A comfort that filled up the space Matt and her father had left behind.

“Do you know where he is?” She asked the Black Lion, her voice sounding small even in the echoing cavern of the hangar.

There was no answer, and she hadn’t really been expecting one.

Pidge ran.

Of _course_ she ran.

She ran away from the crushing silence, through the empty, silent hallways of the castle, shedding her metal coverings on the way until nothing but the stretchy, thick, black under armour was left. The others had already gone before her; taking the elevators in their exhausted states. Pidge didn’t bother—her entire body itched with the urge to fight, to _run_ , to scream and punch the wall until her knuckles cracked and her arm shattered.

The Green Paladin slammed through the door of her room, tossed the bits into the corner and scrambled to peel the rest off. The back of her eyes burned and her fingers trembled against the snaps and zippers as everything blurred.

Something hot and wet dripped onto the back of her hand and she wiped it on the bedspread. A low keening sound rose up around her and Pidge glanced over at her computer only to realize that it was off and the sound was coming from herself.

“No, no,” she murmured and pressed her palms against her mouth, trying to stop the horrible noise from escaping. That hot wetness pooled in the place where her thumbs cupped her cheeks and her chest shuddered with a sob that made her bruised ribs ache. They were her tears, Pidge concluded with the same kind of shocked realization a child had when they fell and their knee stung.

She was...

She was _crying_.

Another sob tore up through her diaphragm and made her groan as if stung the back of her throat and made the crest of her sternum feel as if it was being crushed. Forgetting about the black material the paladin armour was made of, Pidge curled up on the end of her bed, pulling her legs up to her chest and pressing her forehead into her knees.

He was _gone_.

Shiro was _gone_.

Vanished after their battle against Zarkon, possibly dead. He had slipped out of their fingers when Voltron had been ripped apart leaving nothing but an empty, Black Lion. He was gone _again_.

Snarling, Pidge grabbed the nearest item and flung it at the wall, not caring that the small Altean machine she had been pulling apart shattered. She grabbed something else and froze as the corner pressed into her palm and her brother’s face looked up at her, smiling as he hugged her goodbye in front of the ship that would eventually take him up into the blackness of space.

She gripped both sides of the picture frame and gently placed it to the side, her hands shaking so much that the frame seemed to vibrate.

All of them were missing again.

And this time, Pidge wondered if it was her fault.

If she was the curse that tore her families apart.

The Green Paladin, curled up on top of her sheets, pulled her pillow to her chest, and pressed her mouth into the fabric, hoping that no one would walk by and grow curious, that no one would knock on her door until she could hide the tears and shaky breaths.

Tomorrow she’ll put on a brave face, she’ll try to track the energy of Shiro’s armour, maybe find a way to figure out where he’s located or at least backtrack until finding the place he could have gone missing.

But tonight?

Tonight she cried.

**Author's Note:**

> Loosing her brother and father, loosing Shiro, someone give this child a hug.  
> This is probably the shortest thing I've ever written.


End file.
